A Challenge All Its Own
by IWatchYouWhileYouSleep
Summary: Spy begins to realize that he has feelings for the Scout but knows how the other feels about 'gayboys'. Still, that doesn't stop him from trying to get him to feel the same way.  Summary change  Suck at summaries  R&R Please!


It had been a long day for everyone. The weather was nothing short of terrible with the temperatures hitting over 100 degrees and when it finally seemed to get better with rain, everyone was quickly reminded that they would have to run around in it until the end of the match. In the end, no one was going to be happy. Inside one of the half broken down buildings was the Spy, leaning against the window frame as he looked down at the people running around. The building was dark and he hid carefully in the shadows, despite the red glowing tip of his cigarette. He inhaled another puff of the cancer stick before closing his eyes, relying now on his other senses. But it didn't last long before they shot open again, the window he was at shattering upon contact of the bullet. He quickly hid behind the wall, glancing ever so slightly out the window to see the culprit. It was a sniper from the BLU team, sitting carefully in a building a crossed from him. He uttered some French under his breath before snuffing out his cigarette and heading back outside. The match would be ending soon and while the idea of having a peaceful walk back without having to worry about someone shooting his head in sounded nice, he wasn't in the mood to have Soldier shout and bark at him for not participating in the match.

"Shit."

The spy's footsteps faltered for a moment when he heard the curse, knowing full well who had said it. As he rounded the corner, it seemed he was right as he was faced with the RED Scout, propped up against a wall and holding an arm carefully over his stomach. As he examined closer, he noticed the usually crisp white bandages the scout wore were tainted red with blood. He arched an eyebrow, curious as to who had managed to get close enough to slash at the runner. Clearing his throat, he quickly gained the Scout's attention as he walked forward. His surprised reaction was nothing short of amusing to the older man as he stood silently in front of the Scout. His eyes met with the brunette's for only a brief moment before trailing down to the gash in his stomach. He didn't have to say anything before the Scout started blubbering out some excuse.

"Y-Yo, it's not what it looks like—alright so it _is_—but, I mean, he struck me while I was already down! So it wasn't my fault, alright? Yah gotta keep this away from Solly, you know he'll chew my ears off if he finds out." But it was surprising. Not many people could get their Scout, especially not close enough to slice him one. What had he been doing? The Spy gave him a light nod before walking around the Scout and heading towards the exit. He paused for a moment to glance back at the Scout.

"Just be sure to run along to zhe Medic. I am sure he will be 'appy to help you." He said in his usual French-drenched accent before moving along.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut yah trap and get moving." It was clear that the Scout was tired just by listening to him but the Spy questioned it no further. He heard the other's footsteps behind him as he continued towards the exit, but those other footsteps slowed down and quieted until a 'thump' sounded behind him. Looking behind him curiously, he was faced with the Scout passed out on the ground. Worry suddenly washed over him but he still kept up his composure—even in these conditions he had a reputation to uphold to. Grabbing the Scout he uncomfortably picked up the other and put him on his back. Great. Now he had to be even more cautious and having this lug on his back wasn't going to do much if an enemy decided to come up and test him. Letting out a sigh, he carefully glanced around before moving forward, concentrating on both his surroundings and the Scout. How long had he been bleeding? He listened carefully for the other's breathing and, while it was raspy and harsh, it was still there. Good. He was still alive. It wasn't uncommon for people to get into this kind of condition. That was probably why when he finally reached the Medic, the other male wasn't surprised.

"Vhat had he been doing? Meiin gott, zhese scouts." The Medic complained more to himself, mostly in German, as he took the Scout off of Spy's back, resting the other on the examination table. He leaned against the wall and took out a cigarette, having the need to add more cancer into his lungs. But the glare he got from the Medic made him retreat from the room, instead taking a place outside where the smoke wouldn't reach in there. The Medic carefully examined the Scout's wound, pushing up the red shirt to examine the cut more. It was deep and long, trailing a crossed his abs and into his stomach in a diagonal sweep. The doctor mumbled more to himself as he got to work, the faint cooing from Archimedes and the other doves calming his mind. It was a long and tedious procedure that ended nearly three hours later after the Spy had left the room. The Frenchman was still standing outside, three cigarette buds resting on the ground by his feet and the fourth in between his lips. The match had long been over, people coming in and out of the room for little things. Finally, the Spy decided to take a peak in the room. The Scout had been moved to one of the many beds, resting peacefully and the Medic stood by some of the bird cages, giving them their dinner for the night.

"Vhat now?" The Spy glanced over at the Doctor, meeting with his eyes for a brief moment before looking back over to the scout.

"Iz he alright?"

"You doubt my expertise?" The Spy fell silent for a few moments, debating his response carefully before simply shaking his head. Not once had the Medic allowed someone to die, so he could truthfully say that he trusted him. Making no motion to leave the room, an awkward silence filled the air before the Medic shooed him off.

"Go, shoo now. Sleep up." Sleeping did sound nice, especially after the day and weather they had put up with. Leaving with no protest and a quick glance at the Scout, the Spy bid his farewells for the night and headed to his own room. The Medic shook his head and finished up with what he was doing. It was going to be a long night for him. While he normally didn't get much sleep, he would have to make sure he stayed up until the Scout woke up. And he did, about five hours later in the middle of the night. The Medic had been working on filing a stack of papers he never really got to when he heard a low groan come from the runner. He glanced over at him, arching an eyebrow as the boy sat up, flinching at the pain. Immediately, the Medic stood up and crossed the room, pressing the Scout back down to the bed.

"No. I vill not allow you to sit up jus' yet." The Scout blinked a few times, confused, before his thoughts came together.

"Josef?" The Scout said, addressing the Medic by his real name. The doctor said nothing and simply nodded, walking back over to his desk.

"You took quite the fall. Tell me, who took you out?" He settled himself back down at his desk, shuffling through papers as he glanced at the Scout every now and then, making sure he didn't get back up. But he didn't, he just remained where he was and stared at the ceiling. He remembered every little thing that ever happened to him on the battlefield. He knew every single person who ever took a hit at him and if they succeeded or not, he even remembered the people who his comrades nearby took out. Taking pride in his job, it only made sense he would know who managed to hit him while he was down. But his pride wouldn't let him tell Josef who did it. He just slid his eyes closed and sighed.

"None of your damn business." He said, though he wished his voice would have more tone to it. The doctor said nothing, he simply 'hm'd' and left it at that for a while.

"Vell then. Go back to sleep little _cry baby_ and let me know vhen you can suck up your pride." Scout scrunched his nose up, wanting to say something else but held his tongue for once. Usually he was a chatter box bunny but he wasn't in the mood. _Probably just tired._ He told himself, shaking his head. As the silence filled the room—aside from the occasional cooing from one of the doves—his thoughts wandered and something came to mind. Who had taken him here? The Spy? Nah, that backstabbing creep didn't care for no one, even if he dared to call him one of his few friends amongst their team.

"Where is Francis?"

"Hm? Ah, I sent him to bed. He vas _so_ worried about you." The Scout scoffed, trying to turn onto his side but the tearing pain from his cut stopped him. He let out a displeasing noise, bringing an arm to protectively cover his wound. Josef glanced over at the younger teammate and simply shook his head. This was going to be a long night.

(( Hello everyone! This is my (technically) second story! As well as my first fanfic for TF2. I hope you enjoyed reading it so far! Please Review! ))


End file.
